


Lean on Me

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zitao’s weight against him is solid enough that Lu Han knows that Zitao really needs it. He’s always seemed to take the travelling the hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lean on Me

Lu Han doesn’t see it happen, but he sees the aftermath.

Zitao looks miserable, hand pressed to the top of his head. The circles under his eyes are darker than usual, and Lu Han knows that he’s exhausted, jetlagged, and overwhelmed by the whole trip. Lu Han nudges Minseok in the ribs. “What happened?”

“Hit his head off something,” Minseok says, his brows creasing in sympathy.

Lu Han’s eyes slide back to Zitao. He looks pale, wan, his tall silhouette disguised with his shoulders pulled in. It’s a faint imitation of his usual airport bravado. He watches as Yifan sidles up next to him, using the excuse of the crowd to get close enough to speak softly to Zitao. There’s a second where Zitao straightens his shoulders, shaking his head, and though Yifan doesn’t look convinced, he nods and moves off. Zitao is trying, but it’s only a moment before his shoulders slump again.

Minseok smiles knowingly as Lu Han pushes forward determinedly. “Shut up,” Lu Han mutters darkly back at him.

It only takes him a few seconds until he’s hovering behind Zitao, closer than is necessary. They’re stopped while they wait for their car and Lu Han can see the line where Zitao’s makeup ends below his jaw, the overlong hair at the back of his neck. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, lips not moving, mindful of the fans around him.

For a few seconds, Zitao doesn’t move at all. He sways a little, and then he pivots. It’s lucky that Lu Han has had a lot of practice keeping his smile in place, because the sheer exhaustion in Zitao’s eyes could choke him.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for Zitao to close the distance between them and bury his face in Lu Han’s shoulder. He makes no attempt to wrap his arms around Lu Han. Lu Han freezes, a little startled. His hands are filled with fan gifts, and he can’t move, and all he can think to do is lean forward into Zitao. “I’m so tired, ge.” Lu Han can feel Zitao’s heartbeat against his chest and the way he shakes, just a little.

Lu Han can’t help but keep aware of the fans, the smile on his face frozen out of habit as the cameras pointed at them and snapping. Zitao’s weight against him is solid enough that Lu Han knows that Zitao really needs it. He’s always seemed to take the travelling the hardest. “Am I annoying you?” Zitao’s voice is muffled against Lu Han’s hoodie.

He shakes his head before Zitao even gets the word out of his mouth. “No,” he says. Of course not. If Zitao needs someone to lean on, then Lu Han will do that for him, without hesitation.

“I just.” Lu Han tips his head towards Zitao, trying to hear him better, his cheek pressed against Zitao’s glossy hair. The car is taking forever and the fans are still crowded around them, noisy as ever. Lu Han really wishes that he could just drop his bags and hold Zitao, smooth his hair out of his eyes and the lines from his forehead, hold him until he stops trembling. If there was just a button he could press to put everything on pause, give them all room to breathe, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Zitao doesn’t finish his thought. His weight rests heavy against Lu Han’s shoulder and Lu Han stands steady, listening to the faint sound of Zitao’s shaky breath. When he finally pulls away, his hand still tight in his hair, he smiles at Lu Han. “Thanks,” he says earnestly, tired eyes not quite meeting Lu Han’s.

“We’ll be back at the dorm soon,” Lu Han says. He hates how inadequate it feels, but it’s all he’s got right now. Zitao nods a little, and then turns back to wait for the van.

Lu Han knows that a few minutes break isn’t enough to make Zitao feel better, and he can tell by the way that Zitao flinches with each camera flash that he’s still overwhelmed by everything right now. He takes a tentative step forward and presses his chin to the crook of Zitao’s shoulder.

Zitao’s only reaction is the tiniest shift of his chin towards Lu Han, the upturned corner of his lips, but Lu Han takes it as a tiny victory.

When the van finally comes, Yifan and Yixing claim the middle row, heads bent together, thick as thieves, like they’ve been all weekend. Minseok climbs in the back and Lu Han gently nudges Zitao after him. It’s Lu Han’s shoulder that Zitao’s head falls against as he dozes.

Lu Han supposes that ‘doze’ is not quite the right word when they reach the dorm and Zitao is nigh impossible to wake. Minseok watches, amused and trapped in the backseat, as Lu Han does his best to be gentle. When he sees it’s Lu Han shaking him awake, the irritated curl of his lips fading, he gets out easily enough.

He disappears into the room he shares with Minseok as soon as they’re inside, and Lu Han frowns a little. He flops down heavily on his own bed and frowns down at his hands, unwilling to start unpacking or do anything, really. The long flight from America weighs on him.

A clack startles him, a pill bottle hitting his chest and dropping into his lap. Yixing tips his head and smiles. It’s painkillers. “Go ahead,” Yixing tells him. Lu Han thinks he should possibly be weirded out by how well Yixing can read him. Right now, though, he’s choosing to ignore it.

His fingers close around the pill bottle. “Thanks,” he says, ruffling Yixing’s hair as he passes, on his way to the door. Yixing makes a face and shoves Lu Han hard enough to make him stumble as he slips through the door.

Lu Han makes a quick pitstop in the kitchen before he knocks quietly and enters Zitao’s room. Zitao is curled up in bed, arms wrapped around his pillow, and all Lu Han can see of him his the top of his head, hair messy. “Hey,” Lu Han says softly, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

Zitao lifts his head as the mattress sinks down under Lu Han’s weight. “Hi?” he says.

Holding out his hand, Lu Han shakes the pill bottle at him. “I thought these might help.”

Zitao’s eyes light up and he slowly pushes himself up until he’s sitting. He obediently holds out a hand and Lu Han passes over a couple of pills and then a glass of water. “Drink it all,” Lu Han tells him. “It’ll help your headache.”

There’s amusement in Zitao’s gaze as he tips his head back and drinks down the whole glass. “You’re bossy tonight,” he says, setting the empty water glass down on his bedside table with an audible click.

Lu Han shrugs, his eyes falling away from Zitao. “Just worried is all,” he says. He glances up again, and Zitao is frowning at him, confused, his hand pressed to the top of his head. Lu Han reaches out, tracing gentle fingertips down Zitao’s jaw. “You don’t normally do that, in the airport.”

“Sorry,” Zitao says, eyes downcast. He sounds genuinely repentant when he speaks again. “I didn’t mean to.” He turns his face into Lu Han’s touch, eyes sliding shut even as he reaches up to wrap long fingers around Lu Han’s wrist and hold him there.

Lu Han snorts. “Don’t apologize,” he chides, and he can feel Zitao smile against his palm. He brushes his thumb across Zitao’s cheekbone. “It’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” Zitao says promptly. Lu Han loves it when he smiles like this, wide and bright, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. He knows it’s too soon for the painkillers to have kicked in, but at least Zitao looks better now that they’re back in the dorm, out of sight of all the fans. “If you insist.”

He twists around, surprisingly agile despite his headache and exhaustion, curling into Lu Han’s lap. He buries his face in Lu Han’s belly, sighing as his fingers tangle in the hem of Lu Han’s shirt. “Feeling better?” Lu Han asks and he gently strokes his hand through Zitao’s hair. He’s always liked doing this, Zitao’s hair is thick and healthy, the only one lucky enough to escape the constant frying of hair dye.

“Now I am,” Zitao answers sleepily. A smile pulls at Lu Han’s lips. He knows that Zitao will be asleep in a matter of minutes, and Lu Han is tired enough himself, but he’ll sit here until Zitao has nodded off. What’s a few more minutes anyway?


End file.
